He wakes up in a hospital with the taste of blood in his mouth. He blinks against the dark of his room and moves his fingers, then hands, arms, and stares at them for a bit before surveying his room. It’s dark, like he first noticed, but there’s the ever present beeping of his heart monitor and a low light from under the room’s door. Clearing his throat hurts but he ignores the pain to address the man lying across his legs. Nothing. Again, this time with a jiggle of his leg. It seems to jar the other and in a second, he’s staring into wide eyes that don’t seem to believe what they’re seeing. Him, he guesses.
“Hello,” his voice is scratchy—probably from disuse, but it could be natural as well.
“Cas!”
He stares at the other, “That is my name?” he seemed thoughtful. “Cas…” he let’s it roll off his tongue and nods. “Who are you?” he asked after a moment of silence between them, where the stranger seemed to go through multiple panicked expressions.
“Dean—I’m Dean…you don’t remember me?” he asked slowly.
He stares at Dean for a second before saying, “No,” and “I’m sorry.”
Dean doesn’t look as crestfallen as he would’ve thought. “That’s okay—you’ve lost your memory once, you can remember me again,” he says resolutely with a head nod. “We can help you remember at the Lair.”
“Lair.” He repeats, eyebrow raising in question. Briefly, he wondered what their occupation was that he would lose his memory and they lived in a ‘lair’.
“Yeah, I’ll tell you all the things you won’t want to remember.” Dean says it so aloof, with a carefree grin that barely hides the pain. He nods at the other and looks down at himself. “Oh, right, here.” Dean goes to the cupboards in the corner and take clothing and shoes out, handing it to him. “We gotta get going soon…” he added as he stepped away, towards the curtain that cuts his part of the room off from the rest of the occupants.
Dean can handle it. He’s psyched himself up enough, and he’s timed it just right as to not see any nudity from either of them. Now Sammy—ever the cockblock, will know how it feels.
He stops the evil laughter in favour of being sneaky.
Creeping up to the door, he presses his ear against it and nods once to himself. Cas warned him away but he’ll be damned if that ever stopped him. Especially when it came to his younger brother and Gabriel. No offense to the guy, but he was kind of a douche at school.
Anyway, he’s crouching beside the door, trying to hear anything on the other side. It comes down to a groan from Gabriel that he walks in.
“Whoa—hey bro,” he says in false surprise. Sam nearly levels him with an epic bitch face while he sits up from under Gabriel straddling him.
“Dean.” He replies.
“Yeah so…pizzas gonna be here soon,”
“We didn’t order any pizza,”
“Yeah, well…I did,” he replies once more, smirking as Sam huffs.
“Get out,” Sam groans as he throws a pillow at Dean.
“Fine, fine,” he says as he’s stepping backwards. “Need a condom?”
“Get out,” Sam groans while Gabriel laughs. Dean shuts the door before another pillow is thrown at him.
Stepping out, he’s met by a disapproving Cas. “We’ll have to order pizza now,” he voices.
“Ah, it was worth it,” Dean answers, throwing his arm around Cas’ shoulders. “I want a pie on the side,” he adds as they descend the stairs.
“Very well,” sighs Cas.
The next time they see Levia!Cas, he’s not wearing the suit and tie, nor the trench coat. Sam can tell Dean is a little more than distraught.
Levia!Cas is decked out in an all-black suit, looking smarmy as he holds Dean up against a wall, via neck. Sam’s off to the side, holding his stomach and struggling to breathe.
Cas’s voice takes up the silence, cold and cruel as he speaks. “I bet you miss the tie,” he’s speaking to Dean.
“Shut your-,”
“Don’t play the hard-card, human,” he cuts off Dean. “See, I’ve got all of this Castiel-bloke’s memories,” Dean freezes at this. “Oh yes…all your little games,” he chuckles lowly. “Bet you miss that raggedly blue tie,” he murmurs.
Dean let’s out a rough cough, grunting, “Screw you,”
The leviathan laughs and drops him to the floor.
Dean never noticed before, because before he wouldn’t be sharing a bed with Castiel in the first place, and now how could he, when the first few times Castiel was in his bed he couldn’t notice if the angel wore socks or not? Exactly, there is no way he would notice.
But by now, it’s been a couple of weeks and Castiel is a regular in his bed at night, whether for the reason he and Sam get separate rooms now, or to spoon. Now Dean notices his bare feet are tangled with his angel’s socked ones.
Untangling their feet, he turns, into Castiel, and kisses the stubbled chin. “Why’re you wearing socks?” he asks, tired as he may be, he’s curious.
“I can dispose of them,” Cas offers, voice rough with lack of sleep. He only sleeps once exhausted enough—not used to his human body just yet.
“Nah, I just wanna know,” Dean replies through a yawn.
Castiel thinks, almost long enough for Dean to think he’s fallen asleep, and Dean is close enough to falling asleep himself when Castiel answers. “I guess I’m just comfortable,” he says, “And it keeps me from being cold…” he trails off, “And the last week or so, I’ve noticed you have cold feet in the morning, so I warn them up before you wake,”
Dean grins to himself. “Oh.” It’s a simple enough reason. “Just don’t wear them when we have sex, ‘kay?” he mumbles, eyes closing to sleep. “And go to sleep, Cas,” he adds as an afterthought.
“Alright, Dean.”
It starts with a lightning strike—it doesn’t hit him but it’s close. It’s a jerking motion, one that feels like a rip off of J.K. Rowling’s books. One where he’s spinning and can’t get his bearings. One where no matter how hard he tries, he can’t.
And then he does. He gets to his feet shakily, almost sick to his stomach. His head hurts.
It’s silent. Eerie. He can’t shake the feeling of being watched, and every time he turns to look over his shoulder, it’s different.
Different as in: that traffic cone wasn’t there before; another turn: that tree wasn’t there before; and another turn: the cone is gone, and in its place is a street sign.
He walks a little down the road, staring straight ahead of himself, despite every instinct that he’s had drilled into him tells him to look back. He can’t. This area was familiar but it was so dark. His breathing quickened as he heard nearby barking. A swing set nearby was blowing in the wind. He quickened his paces.
He was almost home, wasn’t he?
Nearer still, he hurried his steps. If only he stayed until his ride came. He’s shivering in his thin jacket as he’s hurrying now, quick to get home.
A howl to his right makes him drop his bag briefly before he scrambles to grab it and he’s running now. Faster now, a stitch is in his side. A screech of tires, and a car is chasing him. He’s almost home, just up the driveway.
The car skids behind him and he turns to look over his shoulder, only to trip over a spray of gravel.
The fear leaves him immediately, though the pain in his knee stays. It’s his dad. His dad, who is laughing heartily. At him.
His face burns angrily, and the front door to Bobby’s opens with a clang. “What’re you doing, scaring the kid?” Bobby’s first to ask as he’s lumbering down the porch and walking towards them.
Sam’s quick to wipe at any tears and stands up, clutching the pillow-sack to his body.
John finishes laughing as he patted Sam’s shoulders. “Nothing, I told him no trick-or-treating, though,” he said.
Sam stared at his feet. Bobby huffed as he pulled Sam towards the house, his grip reassuring. He leveled John with a stare. “He’s 8. They’re staying with me right now.” His voice wasn’t raised, but the tone said much of what he was thinking. “I said he could go ‘round to the neighbors after the party that lil girl was having. Even helped him with his costume ‘nd everything,” he said over his shoulder, steering Sam into the house. “Idjit,” he muttered.
John had the decency to look abashed. Not for long, however. “Alright, I’m sorry if I scared you, Sammy,” he said as he followed them into the house. Dean greeted them from in front of the TV, though he was quick to change it from the soap he was watching, to a random game.
“What ya get, kid?” Bobby asked Sam as he brought him to the kitchen to clean the scrape on his knee.
Sam shrugged, “Some gummy bears, gum, chips, chocolate,” he said.
“That’s good. You have fun?”
“Yeah…”
Bobby sighed. “Until the walk home?”
And then Sam wakes up. He’s an adult again, his knee doesn’t hurt, and they’re in a dingy motel room. He groans as pain cascades down his back.
“You okay there, Sammy?” Dean asks from the table a few feet away.
“Yeah…” he trails off as he feels his back, feels the bandages around his torso. “What happened?” he asks, trying to make sense of why he would remember a memory like that, while knocked out, rather than a Lucifer induced one.
“Ah, angry witch—bitch tried hitting you with lightning—missed, but made a big gas explosion behind you—dude, you soared.” He sounds almost gleeful, however. “We got it, though! We got the root.”
He rubs his face and looks at Dean. “Oh.” He tries to sound more upbeat. After all, they were still trying to beat the Leviathan.
Dean must have noticed. “Yup, you hungry?” And just like that, it’s normal again. Well, their normal.
Yeah yeah yeah. Brittanartie and Destiel again~ And this kind of…veered off course from Dean’s ineptitude of talking about Feelings, to Sam’s need to know.
Castiel has to wonder how on earth he could continue over shooting his landing destination. His Fathers doing springs to mind, but it leaves quickly. He wanders through the empty halls, down empty aisles. He was in a store, he knew that much.
A shopping place, he thinks as the aisles go from frozen food to baked goods.
“Oh, you’re back!” he turns to the voice and isn’t as surprised as he should be. “How’d you get in here?” she asked, head tilting to the side.
He subconsciously copies her. “I am unsure. It seems I over shot my destination again. I was supposed to be in New Knoxville,” he said, looking around himself. “Where am I?”
“You’re at Daley’s Discount Groceries,” she smiled brightly. “I’m just closing up,” she added as she started walking towards the exit. “Walk me home and you can tell me why you’re here again?” she asked over her shoulder.
Castiel followed after her. “I don’t know why I’m here—after my last visit, I took your advice and it worked splendidly—Dean and I are in a…relationship,”
“That’s awesome!” she smiled at him brightly, “Santana and Artie aren’t fighting—the pie helped tons,” she added.
“That is good to hear,” he said as he picked his way across the parking lot with her. “I have never asked, but what is your name?”
She smiled brightly, “I’m Brittany,” she replied, “So why do you think you’re here again?” she asked after a pause.
He shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure. Maybe something is wrong with you?”
“What?” she shook her head quickly, “Nothings wrong with me,” she said assuredly. “How’s Dean?” she snapped her fingers as a thought struck her. “How’s Sam taking you two being together?”
Castiel frowned, “We haven’t told him yet—Dean says it’s because work and…not-work do not need discussing,” he said stoically.
“Maybe that’s what’s wrong?” Brittany asked, head tilted to the side. “Maybe you need to be out and tell Sam—you guys all work together, right?”
“In a matter of speaking, yes,”
“Well, Sam deserves to know, doesn’t he?”
“Dean doesn’t want to bother Sam with the information.” Castiel shook his head. “Not that Sam knowing would put us in any danger, but it’s best not to have close relationships in their line of work.” He licked his lips, “Their work is not safe in terms of having those connections to be used against us,” he added.
“Ooh…what’re you? A mob boss or something?” she asked excitedly.
“I do not understand the reference…” he stared at her.
Frowning, she shrugged. “What do you do?”
He stopped. He could not just tell her he was an angel of the lord, or hunted monsters with Dean and Sam. Definitely not. She was too pure to mar with information of their exploits. He could not lie, either. “Sam and Dean are hunters. I look after them.” It was the best he could do.
She nodded after thinking it through. “Cool.” They continued walking until she stopped in front of her house. “My advice this time?” she rocked back and forth on the balls of her heels for a second. “Tell Sam.” He nodded once. She smiled, “Okay, goodnight!” she bounced up the short walk, and up the stairs before disappearing inside her house.
0-0-0
Cas appeared into the room the two brothers were staying in, he looked around them. It was dimly lit, and small, but it would have to do. “Sam, Dean,” he said in way of greeting.
“Cas,” Dean gave him a smile, opening his mouth to say something more, before thinking it through and turning back to the research he was doing.
“Hey, Cas,” Sam gave him a friendly smile and slight wave before going back to his laptop.
“Sam, Dean and I need to-,”
“Cas—what’re you doing, man?” Dean asked, covertly shaking his head.
“He deserves to know, Dean,” Castiel said.
“Uh, no, he doesn’t need to know,” Dean gave Sam an awkward shake of his head, “It’s nothing.”
“Brittany says he does,” he said seriously, ignoring Sam’s question of ‘who is Brittany?’. Castiel stared hard at Dean before sitting beside Sam. He continued sitting as still as a statue for the remaining time.
Sam was done for the night. Getting up, he walked to his bed and fell upon it. He bolted up straight to a sitting position when he noticed Cas sitting on the edge of his bed, still staring at Dean. He rubbed his eyes with a small groan. “Just tell me.” He said with a sigh. He was tired. Whatever the news was, he doesn’t think it’ll be too shocking. And he’s not wrong.
“Dean and I are in a relationship.”
He falls back, pushing at Castiel with his feet until the angel stands. “Yeah, thanks for reiterating what we all already know,” he says grumpily.
“What?” Dean asks loudly, causing Sam to cringe into his pillow.
“You can’t possibly think the way you stare at each other is normal, right?” Sam replies, turning to stare at Dean.
“Well, I-,”
“You guys look like you wanna rip each others clothes off, dude—not normal.” He turns his back to the light, and Dean, once more, “Hell, Bobby probably knows you two are screwing—it’s not brand new information,” he says with a yawn, “Now let me sleep.”
Castiel gives Dean a smirk. “I told you.” He’s allowed to be smug, he thinks.
Castiel looks around himself, curses, and almost leaves. Almost. He is, after all, in a clearing he doesn’t recognize. What stops him from leaving, however, is a familiar blonde girl. She is on a blanket, looking up at the numerous stars in the sky, humming to herself once more. Sighing, he walked towards her. “Hello,” he said as he sat beside her.
She looked surprised by his sudden appearance, but not displeased. “Hi, again!” she said brightly.
“What are you doing out here? It’s dangerous,” he said, voice low.
“I like to come here and think,” she said, ignoring his warning. “And the stars are so pretty here,” she added as she looked up to said sky. He followed her gaze and looked up to see the cosmos and all it’s glory. He stared. “And Santana and Artie are arguing…I had to leave,” she pouted.
He awkwardly patted her shoulder. “There, there,” he looked to her and seen her smile.
“How’s Dean and Sam?” she asked as she plucked a string from her sweater sleeve.
Castiel shrugged his shoulders stiffly. “They are well, I suppose.” He thought over the situation and dangers his charges put up with before nodding once more, “They are well in their standards.”
“I meant with the bracelets,”
“Oh…I am unsure.” Castiel frowned. “They did not react the way your charges reacted.”
Brittany looked confused, “My charges?”
“The two people you love,” Castiel clarified. “I hope you do not mind—I checked in.”
Brittany smiled, “I don’t mind,” she pulled her arms around herself. “It’s like having a guardian angel look after me,” she added as she laid back on the blanket, tugging him backwards.
Castiel did not comment, merely looking up at the stars again. “I am unsure of Dean’s feelings towards me. He did not say anything in the positive of my gift,” he said lowly, watching as the warmth of his breath caused spirals.
Brittany frowned. “You should ask him out—maybe something like this—it’d be so romantic,” she sighed, “Sitting under the stars—maybe pack some hot chocolate and food-,”
“Like pie?”
“Yeah, warm apple pie…mmmm…I could go for some pie,” she smiled to herself.
Castiel smiled. “Dean loves pie.” He plucked a blade of grass from the ground.
“Well get him some pie then,” she nudged him as she stood. “I gotta get home or my mom will be worried,” she said with a frown.
Castiel felt a telltale smile on his face. “I shall assist you?” he offered.
“Nah…you go get Dean some pie; maybe I’ll get some for Tana and Artie,” she gave him and smile and walked out of the clearing.
0-0-0
After a quick stop at a diner and purchasing a whole apple pie—thanks to Sam teaching him the customs of buying, paying, and money worth in modern times—he appeared into the current hotel the brothers shared.
“Dean…Sam, I am back,” he said stoically, stepping to the table the two were sitting at.
“Great…where’d you go this time?”
“I am sure somewhere in Lima once again—the girl was there again.” He replied as he clenched the bags straps in his hand and looked to and from the two. He ignored their question about ‘the girl’. “I repeatedly miss my mark. It might be my Father’s odd sense of humor,” He said as he took hold of Dean’s arm. “We’re going.”
They were in the very same clearing he was in prior. “Sit.” He ordered as he began taking out the pie and placed it in front of a now seated Dean. “For you.”
Dean stared down at the pie. “Thanks, but what’s this for?”
“This is…ah…she called it a ‘date’,” he felt nervous. A sign, he ignored it for the look Dean was giving him.
“A date?” Dean looked nervous as well. “You…wanted to bring me on a date?”
“That is correct,” Castiel licked his lips and sunk to his knees in front of Dean. “Is it not ideal for you?” he asked.
“Well it’s not every day an angel takes you on a date,” Dean replied, though he was already eating the pie. “Not too…weird, I guess,” he shrugged as he ate the pie. He felt light, and happy. Not that he’d let it show in his mannerisms, or let his excitement show in his voice. Cas felt the same way! “Whaddo you wanna do?” he asked, setting the pie to the side. He has wanted so long to have the angel—innocent situation or not.
“I was told staring at the stars was romantic enough to constitute a date,” Castiel replied.
Dean grinned, “I’ve never been one to stare at the stars,”
Castiel’s eyebrows pulled together. “I do not under-,” Dean cut him off while dragging him forward.
0-0-0
Brittany dropped a scoop of ice-cream onto Santana’s apple pie. “There you…go!” she finished off the pie-topping with a generous amount of whipped cream.
As Santana and Artie ate their pie, Artie was first to break the comfortable silence. “I’m sorry I called you a garden tool,” he rubbed his knuckles, “And was insinuating you were a hoe,” he added in an undertone.
Santana sighed, “I’m sorry I called you Cripples McNoLegs,”
Artie winced. “It’s okay,” he said and took a quick bite of pie.
Brittany licked at her spoon. “I have an angel watching over me, I think,” she said in the calmest voice possible. The two looked at her in confusion. “That man came again…his Dean didn’t like the bracelets like you did,” she said. “Then he mentioned pie and like, this little lightbulb went off in my head and I was all ‘Let them eat pie!’ and so we did,” she explained.
“You’re sure he isn’t a younger Patches?” Artie asked worriedly.
“He has a trench coat but he’s super nice and talks to me like I’m actually smart,”
Santana rubbed Brittany’s arm, “You are smart…just not a typical smart,” she said gently.
Brittany shrugged as she finished her pie. “Whoever he is, I hope the pie idea worked for him like it did with us,” she said simply.
